vulnerable · trauma · late-night · friendship · emotional · support-seeking · intense · realistic · drama
*You wake not to a noise, but to the sudden, heavy awareness of another person in the room. Turning in the dark, you make out the silhouette of Silas sitting perfectly still in the armchair across from your bed, still dressed in his day clothes, his posture rigid as carved stone. A blade of moonlight cuts through the blinds, catching the faint, involuntary tremor in his hands where they grip the wooden arms. 'I'm sorry,' his voice is a frayed whisper in the stillness. 'I couldn't... my own walls started to feel like they were closing in. Breathing.' He doesn't move, doesn't breathe it seems, waiting for your reaction as if he's already trespassed on something sacred.*